The Folly of Youth
by Wiccagirl24
Summary: Regina promised Rumpelstiltskin comfort and anything he asked for with a 'please.' She tries to undercut his power in other ways. Storybrooke AU
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note**: Happy 6 month anniversary, Rumbellers! It's six months ago today that Skin Deep aired and a fandom inside a fandom was born. This comes from a prompt about Regina creating an AU history for Belle and Gold, as well as my mind getting fixated on a gif from Once Upon a Time in the Midlands (Bobby, swagger, black leather jacket and a wink.)

* * *

Storybrooke was clean. Freakishly Disney-style all but eat off the streets clean. Emma was starting to have flashbacks of watching Stepford Wives in the theatre and being creeped out by robotic Bette Midler (and non-robotic Bette Midler too, honestly.) It was almost a relief, then, when she turned the corner and found a guy leaning against a wall, smoking a cigarette. He was the first person she'd seen smoking, the first person with ripped clothing, his jeans having more holes than fabric, and the first thing that had made this town seem a little bit normal.

"You look a little lost, dearie." He was obviously younger than her, by a good six or ten years. Out of high school she was sure, but she wouldn't bet on whether or not he was legal to drink despite the flask she could see poking out of the pocket of his leather jacket. He certainly wasn't old enough for the condescending tone of voice or the smirk he tossed in her direction.

"There isn't really enough town here to get lost in." She was from Boston, after all. And Phoenix. And a couple dozen other places, some of which had neighborhoods bigger than Storybrooke.

"It's not on the top of anyone's tourist destination list." He took another drag on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke through the corner of his mouth. "But you're here. There must be some draw."

"I have my reasons." Some people might think the Scottish accent he spoke with was a turn on. She found it, and his cockyness, rubbed her the wrong way. She also didn't feel the need to share her story with yet another person; too much of the town was talking about her already.

"If those reasons involve staying the night you're headed in the right direction." He tossed his spent cigarette on the ground, stomping it out with the toe of his boot. His movements were oddly controlled, as if he thought about each one, which seemed at odds with his appearance.

"Pardon?" She didn't figure there was any reason to point out that he was littering, or to care that he did. A cigarette butt on the sidewalk looked more normal than the clean cement that was devoid of even dirt or weeds in the cracks.

"Widow Lucas lives down this street. She runs the only B and B in town, and since there's no hotel that's pretty much your one option." He pointed, a hand motion so smooth she hadn't seen him moving until his finger was outstretched.

"Maybe I don't need a place to stay. I could have an apartment, or a friend to stay with." The bed and breakfast was exactly what she was looking for, but he didn't need to know that.

"You don't have an apartment or house, and I'll bet you a pitcher of Guinness that you aren't staying with friends." He gestured again towards the street that she would have probably picked on her own. "I'm going there anyway, might as well show you where it is."

"I don't make bets." She also didn't want to know just why some punk kid was so certain that she didn't have other arrangements. It was one more creepy thing in this weird town. The weird town where her son had lived for the past ten years with a woman she didn't trust or like, which was why she was staying in nowheresville. She'd just stick around for one week to make sure everything was kosher, and then she was back to her life in Boston.

Not that she had much of a life, but that wasn't the point.

"Doesn't matter, anyway. You're following me, which is answer enough. Don't worry, love, she always has rooms to spare. Like I said, we don't get many tourists around here." He kicked a rock as they walked the sidewalk, not quite shoulder to shoulder. He didn't look at her or say anything until they turned up a curved path that led to a two story building that would have looked strange in most American towns, but fit right in to a place called Storybrooke.

He didn't hold the door open for her, not that she expected that kind of thing. They walked into an argument, something he found amusing if you noted the upturn at the corner of his mouth, but did not comment on.

"Lucas," he said with a nod in the direction of the older woman, who had quieted the moment they'd stepped inside. She seemed to fit the title of 'Granny' pretty well in Emma's estimation. She wondered if the girl was her actually granddaughter, or just an employee.

"Gold." The woman, Lucas, looked back and forth between the new arrivals briefly before her eyes flicked over to the young woman with the streaks or bright red in her hair. They seemed to be communicating without speaking. They had to be related, Emma decided. That kind of communication to time to develop. "We'll be right with you miss…"

"Emma Swan," she answered to fill the expectant pause when she briefly had the woman's attention again.

"It's all there." Emma blinked when, without anything else being said, the woman held out a roll of bills that was not unsizable. The man who had walked in with her, Gold, took the cash without even glancing at it and stuffed it in his pocket.

"Of course it is, love. Pleasure doing business with you." He winked as he turned, right at her as if they were co-conspirators. She only barely resisted rolling her eyes. "Enjoy your stay, Emma Swan. I'll see you around."

"Who's that?" Emma waited until the door was shut and the guy was out of hearing distance, presumably, before asking.

"Gold. He owns this place." The girl looked out the window; Emma took it as a sign that she was making sure the unwanted company was gone.

"The inn?" He seemed ridiculously young to own anything, let alone rental property. She'd never owned anything bigger than her car, personally.

"No." Mrs. Lucas shook her head. "The town."

II

He slept badly. Normally sleep wasn't a problem for him; most people in town would say it was because he didn't have a conscious so there was nothing to bother him while he slept. They just hated the fact that his dad had bought up and developed most of the property in this town, and that when he'd died everything had been left to his barely out of high school son. That in and of itself wasn't the trouble; it was the fact that Gold junior actually knew how to read accounts payable, and not so much as a month's rent had gone uncollected. They were pissed they didn't get a free ride, and had to pay money to someone they viewed as a kid.

He wasn't a kid, and hadn't been one for years.

It wasn't business that kept him awake. It wasn't the fact that most of the town he'd spent his whole life in was full of people that hated or feared him. It was dreams. Not nightmares; those he could explain to himself as being owed to the last pint of beer or the book he'd been reading before bed. Nightmares would have been preferable.

There had been no blood in these dreams. No warfare. Nothing more than a room with a table, a spinning wheel, and odd curios like the ones in his dad's shop. Everything in the room had been so real, but nothing more so than the woman. He could see each curl of her hair, the amused quirk of her lips, the spark in her blue eyes. When he woke, heart pounding, he could almost feel her in his arms, her small body pressed to his chest. She'd fallen, and in the dream he'd almost stopped breathing until he knew she was safe, her clean scent overwhelming his senses.

"Just a dream," he muttered to himself as he rolled out of the bed, pulling on a pair of boxers but not bothering with even an undershirt; it wasn't like there was anyone else in the house to see him.

"Fucking meaningless dream." He didn't bother to turn on a light as he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. The darkness made even the refrigerator light blinding as he opened the door and pulled out a bottle of beer. He tried to think of something other than the dream, but not even speculating about the stranger he'd met earlier was enough to cleanse his thoughts. When he tried to remember blond hair all he saw was brunette curls.

The woman in his dream looked just like his Bella.

She'd been older, in his dream, more woman than girl. The blue dress wasn't anything he'd ever seen his girl in, though in a strange way it suited her. But it had been her. She'd looked just as Bella might, in five or six years.

Bella was dead.

He downed the beer in three hard gulps, tossing the bottle in the trash and taking a perverse pleasure in not sorting it out for recycling per the city council's mandates. If Mayor Mills had a problem with it she could dig through his rubbish and sort it herself.

He moved from the kitchen to the study, this time needing the light of a single lamp. The lower right drawer of the desk that had been his dad's held only a plain wooden box, not much different in size than one that might hold shoes. It, however, held his most precious things. Things that were not just too precious but too painful to leave out where they could be seen daily. Like a drug addict that knows it's dangerous but can't resist the call of one more high he rested the box on his lap and opened the lid.

There were three photos in the box. First was the school pic, taken the first week of her junior year and stolen from the floor of Granny's Diner. He'd been watching her for weeks when she'd dropped it after showing her friend Ruby. He'd waited until they were gone before picking it up and sliding it into his wallet. At the time he didn't know she was even aware of his existence as anything more than the guy that collected the rent on her home and her father's shop.

The second picture was more grainy, but captured her far better than a posed shot taken by some soulless photographer. He'd run into her at the ice cream parlor, and when he'd offered to pay she'd not only agreed, but suggested that they take their cones to the park. Together. He'd somehow teased her into letting him take a picture with his cell phone contact list, just in case she ever wanted to text him or anything. She'd insisted on posing with the ice cream cone, the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth. He'd saved the picture and her number to his contact list, but also printed it out as irrefutable proof that he'd spent time with her.

The third picture was the only one in the box that had both of them in it. There was one other, but that was in the drawer beside his bed, in a frame that she'd picked out. The one in the box was one of those novelty pictures, in sepia tones, from the fair. They'd spent the day there, playing rigged games until he'd won her a red rose that lit up, feeding each other kettle corn and funnel cakes, riding roller coasters. She'd laughed as they walked past the fake bar scene, and whispered promises in his ear until he had no problem dressing up as a cowboy to her saloon girl. In the picture he was looking at her while she looked at the camera. He wondered if anyone looking at the picture could tell how much he loved her, or if it was just him.

There were other mementos in the box; stubs from movie tickets, a barrette he'd stolen from her so he could run his fingers through her hair, notes she'd written him over the course of a year of secretly dating. It was the cup he sought tonight. It was always the cup, because she'd made it for him. It wasn't perfectly round, and there was a chip along the rim where it had cracked in the kiln, but he didn't care. Pottery class, she'd said when she gave it to him, was not going to last past the semester. He'd teased that he'd buy anything she made, and would use them all. He'd proved it by always drinking out of the cup. Now, though, he didn't dare risk it. It could so easily slip through his fingers and shatter. He'd already lost her, he couldn't stand to lose the last few pieces of her he had.

"I miss you like hell, Bella." It was almost a year, since her father had found out about them and sent Bella to stay with cousins in Boston to keep her 'out of that bastard's claws. A year since she'd died in a strange place, away from home. Away from him. A year, but it still felt like yesterday.

Sometimes he felt like tearing apart the whole world, either to get to her or to stop everyone else from living when she didn't. If he had the power to do it he just might. He'd start with Storybrooke, and everyone in this goddamn town.


	2. Ice Cream and Apples

Henry all but skipped out of the Sheriff's station. Emma had insisted that he go home before he was missed, but his mom thought he was at the library doing homework, and wouldn't notice if he was gone. He was in the mood for an ice cream to celebrate having such a good day. Emma had stayed. She said seven days, but now that his mom had tried to frame her she had to see that the town needed her. He needed her.

"Someone's in a good mood." Leaning against the wall of the building, just under a sign that said 'no smoking' was Caden Gold. He had a cigarette between two fingers and was blowing a stream of smoke up into the sky. Nothing had ever looked cooler.

"Hey." His mom hated Gold. That alone seemed to be a pretty good reason to think he was cool. It helped, too, that Belle had liked him. She volunteered at the library, and always helped him pick out new books or just talked to him when him mom had been late. Sometimes Gold had come in, while they were talking. No one else noticed the way Belle's smile got bigger when he showed up, but Henry was good at watching.

He missed Belle.

"So what were you in for, kid? Break into someone's locker? Steal a teacher's attendance book? Stage a coup on the playground?" Gold flicked the ashes from the tip of his cigarette towards the door of the station. Henry watched in fascination as they turned from bright orange to a whitish gray almost instantly.

"Nah. My mom got Emma arrested, but she's lying. Emma's not really a con artist." He'd looked it up, after his mom had said the words with such glee. Emma wasn't here to exploit or swindle from anyone; she was here because she was the Savior.

"Emma, huh? I met a woman named that yesterday."

"She's my mom. My birth mom. I found her in Boston." He was grinning, because it still seemed unreal that he'd done it all. He'd found Emma and snuck away from school, getting onto a bus without anyone stopping him. He'd made it all the way to Boston and gotten her to bring him back. It was kind of awesome.

"Should've stayed. Boston trumps Storybrooke any day of the week." Gold nodded towards the motorcycle that was parked across the street. It was loud and fast and every time it drove past their house him mom threatened to vote in a noise ordinance that made it illegal. She'd make Caden Gold illegal if she could. "I might go there, one of these days."

"I'm going back, someday. Today I'm going to get ice cream." With jimmies, even.

"Aren't you going to ruin your dinner or something? Can't imagine Regina would approve." After a second Gold tossed the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. "Ice cream sounds like a great idea. How about we both get a cone, my treat?"

"Really?" Archie spent time with him, but he was paid to listen. Most other adults didn't have much time for him, except Miss Blanchard but that was different. She was his grandma; she just didn't know it yet. Between Emma walking him to school and now ice cream with Caden Gold this really was the best day ever.

"Sure. I'll even give you a ride home so you're not late." They started walking, and Henry almost tripped as he looked across the street at the bike. His mom would murder him if she ever found out. He couldn't wait.

Henry picked out a vanilla cone with rainbow jimmies. Gold went for teaberry, which was a weird pink color. Henry wrinkled his nose. "Looks like cotton candy." He'd thrown up after eating too much at the fair last summer, and hadn't wanted any since.

"I used to think it was a girly ice cream until someone taught me different." There was something in his eyes that Henry could almost understand.

"Belle liked it?" he asked quietly. He wasn't sure if he should have said her name, but he liked answers and the only way to get answers was to ask the questions.

"Yeah, she did." To Henry's delight Gold grabbed one of the tiny spoons from the counter and scraped off a little of the ice cream, handing it down to him.

"It's not very sweet." His nose wrinkled a little. What was the point of ice cream if it wasn't sweet?

"No, it's not. But it's refreshing."

II

He knew who the kid was, of course. Everyone knew the mayor's son. He hadn't ever paid much attention to him, but something about watching him walk out of the sheriff's station, of all places, which wasn't exactly a kid friendly place reminded him of his Bella. She'd always had a soft spot for kids, running a reading hour at the library once a week. She talked about Henry, and how lonely he seemed; sometimes she'd stayed late to talk to him, and Gold would browse the books nearby like he was there to look at them and not check out why Bella was late meeting him outside.

His Bella would like him talking to the kid. She wouldn't like how amused he was at the idea of them being seen together pissing of the mayor, but then she was nice to everyone. He wasn't nice to anyone, unless it suited him.

"Ready to go?" The kid ate slow, and neatly, stopping a few times to wipe his mouth. Poor kid, having someone as anal as Regina Mills as a mother; no wonder he'd gone looking for a new one. Gold had taken his time eating his cone, trying not to think too much about the time Belle had walked to his house with a double decker cone and teased him until he'd tasted it. It had tasted alright on the cone but twice as good on her tongue.

"Are you really going to let me ride on your bike?" The kid's eyes were wide with wonder. Bella had been more reticent, the first time, but by the time they were racing over the toll bridge she was holding him tight and laughing.

"Sure, just as long as you promise not to fall off. I'm not scraping you off the street, alight? You're on your own if you get hurt." The mayor mostly left him alone, unless she was annoyed enough to have the Sheriff haul him in for public intoxication, but if he broke her kid she'd have him locked up for more than twenty-four hours. He hated being confined.

"Here." He tightened the strap of his helmet as tightly as he could. It was too big, but the best he could do. He'd stopped carrying a second helmet around when Bella had been sent away. It wasn't like they'd be going very fast, anyway; the Mayor's house was all of three blocks away. He lifted Henry up and swung onto the seat in front of him. "Hold on tight."

They were in front of the kid's home, if you could call such a mausoleum looking place a home, in a couple of minutes. It only took that long because he circled the block a couple of times; might as well give Henry a thrill. It was sheer perversity that had him following the boy to the side gate, where there was some kind of noise. He laughed when they rounded the corner and saw the mayor, dragging a branch of her precious apple tree across the yard. From the way the newly exposed bit of tree was cut almost sheer to the trunk it was obvious the branch hadn't fallen off by accident.

"Mom, what happened?" Whether from the ride on the bike or the sight of his mother actually doing manual fucking labor, Henry's eyes were twice as wide as they usually were.

"Noting important. Go inside and put away your school things; I'm starting dinner in five minutes. I'm sure you have homework to keep you occupied until then." She flicked a well manicured hand towards the house. Henry, proving that he was a clever kid, barely nodded at Gold before he headed for the house. He did meet his eyes, though; Gold was sure the look was meant to say thank you.

"Doing some pruning, Regina? You don't quite seemed dressed for gardening." He grinned when she glared at him. It was so easy to push her buttons. Considering she was in politics she really should learn to develop a better poker face. "Bit of a mess, isn't it?"

"Not for long." She bent to pick up the apples that littered the ground now that the branch was out of the way. "Did you need something, Gold?"

"Nah. Just walking by, thought I'd pop in and play nice neighbor in case you needed any help."

"You live on the other side of town," she bit out.

"I like to think we're all neighbors, dearie. It warms the heart." He patted the front of his jacket with an open hand, his expression falsely innocent for just a moment. "Speaking of neighbors, I hear you're having a little trouble with a new one. Name of Emma something or other?"

"She's not a problem." Regina's eyes narrowed. "What do you know about her?"

"Other than the fact that she's staying at Granny's? Nothing at all." There was a full basket of apples at his feet. Gold reached up and plucked one from the tree, and tossed it from hand to hand. "Henry mentioned something about knowing her, though."

"You stay away from my son." He'd hit a nerve, there, because suddenly she was in his face, looking like she'd straggle him if she could. He didn't doubt that she was capable of hiding a body.

"Do I look like I'm eager to baby sit your brat?" He scoffed, though now of course it would be all the more fun to talk to the kid, knowing that it bothered Regina so much. He didn't feel the need to make her any promised to steer clear; it was much more fun to take a bite of the apple he held.

"If you turn out to know anything about Emma Swan, or try to come near my son…"

"Save your melodrama for someone who cares, Madame Mayor. I don't." She still stood between him and the gate, as she could seriously stop him if he wanted to get around her. "In case you missed it, I'm done here."

"Gold…"

"Please," he added sarcastically, and was surprised when she actually stepped aside. Maybe good manners really were worth something.

He took one more bite of the apple as he left. As he reached the gate he deliberately tossed it over his shoulder. Let the apple queen make of that what she would.


	3. One Last Time

First of all, rating change. This is now **M for mature**. Here there be sex and swearing. I'm going to be roughly following the timeline of the show, and since Gold's not in episode 3 my brain said 'well obviously he's having sex.'

**Trigger warning**: While there's not as big of an age difference as usual, I do need to caution that Belle is 16 when they first start dating and 17 when they have sex, while Gold is 20. Four years isn't much, but we are talking, technically, about a minor and an adult.

* * *

Ruby had a thing for bad boys, and in Storybrooke you didn't get any badder than Caden Gold. He rode a wicked motorbike, dressed in black leather, and delighted in flashing his middle finger at the mayor when she drove past. He rolled his own cigarettes, drank from a hip flask in public and had been dragged off to the jail cell thirteen times in the past year, for intoxication or fighting. Maybe she should resent the fact that he owned her home and the diner, but it barely crossed her mind.

Sex with Gold was mindblowing, the best she'd ever had. Not that she'd had as much as some people assumed, but still. Three times, one night, and she hadn't even known she could, in the space of two hours. What's more she liked spending time with him. She even thought he might like her, in the sense of not hating her like he did most of the town. She knew where they stood, though; he'd drop her like a hot potato if it ever became something more than sex laced with friendship. He was in love with her best friend. Her dead best friend.

It probably should have weirded her out, but it didn't. Gold didn't talk about Belle, but then neither did anyone else in town. Even without words, though, she was always there when Ruby and Gold were together. It was like some part of her clung to the man she'd loved so much. Ruby had only seen one person more in love than Belle French, and that was Caden Gold. She didn't even pretend to herself that anyone would ever feel for her like Gold had, and still did, feel for Belle. So the way Ruby saw it, if she could make Gold a little less unhappy, a little less angry, even if it only lasted an hour she was sure that her friend would approve.

The first time, for them, had been two nights after the memorial service. She'd been taking out the trash, the first time ever that she'd volunteered for the task. It was either that or hit the next person who tried to say something sympathetic about 'a better place' or 'at least she wasn't in pain.' Or cry, and that was even worse. Instead she'd taken the trash, snagging Hugo's smokes and lighter on her way through the kitchen. Granny had told her off the one and only time she'd caught Ruby smoking, and she'd been careful since then. That night she hadn't given a damn.

She'd been halfway through the second cigarette when a door two buildings down flung open. Usually that meant someone else was taking out the trash. That night it was a drunk, being forcibly ejected from the bar. A very loud drunk with a very recognizable accent. He stumbled and she, for some reason, had stubbed out the cigarette and had gone to help him. To this day it wasn't clear how offering to help him home had, instead, turned into his body covering hers and a hard brick wall to her back. Neither of them had spoken as they fumbled to remove the minimal amount of clothing. He, somehow, had still possessed enough presence of mind to stroke her with a finger and make sure she was ready for him before taking her, hard and fast. She'd bit her tongue to stop from screaming as she came; it was the first time in two days she hadn't felt gray.

He'd been gone before she even had a chance to smooth down her skirt and find her panties.

It'd been a month before she saw him again, unless you counted watching his bike race down the street, or the one time he'd come to collect rent. He hadn't even looked at her; she almost felt like she'd imagined the ally. After a month, though, her car had broken down - again - on the side of the road. He'd been the first to drive past, and had stopped to fix it for her. Somehow they'd ended up fucking in the back seat, and she knew that the first time hadn't been a memory, not a dream.

There was no rhyme or reason to it, but after that second time she saw him more often. Sometimes they fucked. Sometimes she just asked him to look under the hood of her car and promised repayment in Granny's pies. A few times she brought him meals, because for all that he didn't look frail there wasn't much meat between his skin and bones. His lean muscles reminded her of a half hungry wild dog. Or wolf.

He thanked her, when she brought food, and always offered to pay, but never let her in the house. So far as Ruby knew no one had been in the house for almost a year, not since Sheriff Graham had brought the news that Belle French was dead. The gazebo in the backyard, where they were currently sprawled on a cushion yanked off a lounge chair, was as close to spending time at his house as she'd gotten.

"I love this time of year." Her clothes littered the floor of the gazebo, mostly in reaching distance, but she didn't bother with them right away. The yard was completely fenced in, and it wasn't like Gold had regular company popping by. It was warm for October, and she wanted to enjoy the feel against her skin; any day now it would be time for sweaters and scarves.

"What, the part where snow is eminent and will do its damndest to cut us off from everything, or the part where the streets are going to be filled with snot nosed brats tomorrow, ignoring cars on the road and demanding sugar?" He was on his back, staring at the ceiling of the gazebo, one hand idly stroking his chest. He was barely on the cushion, far enough that he wasn't touching her. He rarely did, once the sex was over, but at least he didn't run away anymore.

"All of it. The apple pies and pumpkin spice lattes, the smell of leaves in the air and getting to dress up for a night." She loved smells; there was something so comforting about them. In another month it would be evergreen, which she loved but for some reason made her a little sad too. "Vartan's parents are gone for the night and he's throwing a party; it's going to be huge."

"My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail," Gold snarked, rolling to his side to get his shirt. Ruby cursed silently; it had been stupid to mention the boy's name.

"We could crash. Really mess with his head." It wasn't like she cared what Vartan Gaston thought. She went to his parties because they meant loud music and free booze, nothing else. She'd never slept with him or anything. He'd tried to date Belle, rather persistently their junior year, but to Ruby who was the only one in Belle's confidence when it came to her thing with Gold, his attempts were a mix of funny and pathetic. Gaston was a pompous ass who thought too much of himself and needed to be taken down a peg or twelve.

"Not in the mood for a ride in the sharif's back seat. If I see the little punk again, without his daddy standing by to protect him, I will break his fucking jaw." One of the strange things about Gold was the way that, sometimes, he spoke of violence and death in the same tone that she used to make a grocery list.

"Oh." She hadn't known that things between them were that bad. She was going to have to do a little scooping to find out what all had happened between them that she hadn't heard about.

"We could always egg his house. It's a classic for a reason. Belle and I did it once." The memory for a moment was so vivid that she hadn't thought of what she'd said. In the seconds afterwards she wished the words back. The were greeted with complete stillness. Gold didn't move, speak, and barely seemed to breathe. He did nothing but stare at her, and she wasn't sure if the look meant to share or to shut up. She, of course, chose to speak. "She was twelve, I was thirteen. Granny thought we were at her house and Moe thought we were at mine. Instead we went trick or treating, getting candy first before we made it to the Gaston house. He was a prick even back then. I forget what he'd done that week, but out of twelve eggs we managed to hit his window twice. Belle, being Belle, wanted to go back afterwards and wash the walls and window. I wouldn't let her."

"That's my Bella." It was said so quietly that Ruby couldn't be sure, but it sounded like he spoke in present tense.

"So what do you say?" They'd be able to make a fast getaway and everything, with his bike. Could be fun. If nothing else it meant a ride on his bike and the potential of post adrenalin rush sex. And time with him, but she tried not to think too much about why she wanted that.

"Sorry, dearie. I have plans for tomorrow night." Which probably wasn't a lie, since he never bothered with them. But she'd bet money on his plans involving hiding in his house with the lights off, or riding around on his bike. Either way it was pointless to try and get him to change his mind.

"Okay." She sat up and started gathering her clothes.

"I'm closing at the diner tonight so I should get going. There'll be loads of pumpkin pies tomorrow, if you stop by at all." She never would have guessed it, before he and Belle got together, but the man had quite a sweet tooth.

"Yeah, maybe." Which again, wasn't a lie but there wasn't a whole lot of conviction to it.

"See you around, Gold." She dressed as fast as she could without making it look like she was hurrying, and left with a wave and a smile she didn't quite feel.

Half a block from his house Ruby ran into Archie Hopper, walking Pongo. She wasn't in the most chatty mood, but she managed a smile for him too.

"Are you alright?" As usual he didn't ask the easy 'how are you?' that most people did, with the expectation of a 'good' or 'fine.' Archie spent far more time observing than most people.

"Do you ever wish you could go back and be a kid for a little bit, Doc?" She shook her head. She'd known going in that things with Gold were just about being fuck-buddies. Anything more would be stupid even without the white elephant of Belle in the room. "Guess Halloween just makes me nostalgic."

"I can appreciate the freedom and ease of a normal childhood but no, that's not something I've ever wished for." There was something, just the slightest inflection on the word 'normal' that made her tilt her head to the side and look at him. She'd never heard word one about his childhood. Hell, she barely knew anything about him as an adult, other than the fact that he drank too much coffee and seemed to work way more hours than was necessary. "Can Pongo and I walk you somewhere?"

"Just going home to change for work, if you're heading that way." COmpany might now be such a bad idea. "If you wanted to wait a minute and walk me to the diner as well I might be able to sneak you a piece of pie."

"I'd like that," he said with a smile that was completely genuine. He was about as far from a bad boy as it was possible to get, and a smile was just a smile, but for the first time Ruby had just a moment where she thought that maybe she should rethink some things.

"Let's go then."

* * *

Gold didn't bother getting dressed the rest of the way. He gathered his things and carried them upstairs, tossing them on the floor of his bedroom and stripping off his shirt again to join the rest of the pile. He needed a shower. Once upon a time sex had been about nothing more complicated than feeling good, physically. Then he'd fallen in love with Bella, and sex had been so much more.

The only person he'd been with since Bella was Ruby; he hadn't meant it to happen but she was willing, and eager, and did this thing with her tongue that was very distracting. She was also Bella's friend, which made things easier and more complicated and fucked up and harder. The release from orgasm lasted, if he was lucky, ten minutes before he felt like he'd betrayed Bella and taken advantage of Ruby. He'd resolve to stay away from her, and it would last for days or even weeks, but then he was back again, telling himself that this time he wouldn't allow himself even an instant of pretending that she was someone else.

He lied to himself every damn time. He was just glad he hadn't said _her_ name out loud.

He was going to have to end things soon, though, he thought as he turned on the shower. More and more she was asking him about coming over for pie, or going out for a ride, or other things that were more than just 'let's fuck each other's brain out.' Using her for sex was wrong, but letting her get attached to him would be worse. There was barely a present for them, and never a future.

It was, more than the physical release, the little stories Ruby sometimes told that kept him coming back to her. She and Bella had been friends for most their lives, and unlike the rest of the town she wasn't reluctant to mention his girl's name. Egging Gaston's house, she'd told him this time, and he tucked it away in his mind like a treasure. He could almost see the look of concentration on her face, the way she sometimes bit her lower lip, and the follow through as she flung the egg. Considering that he'd seen her miss a bowl from a foot away, with an egg, he was pretty sure it would have taken a few tries to actually hit the window.

_"It's not funny, Caden Gold. If we run out of eggs this whole batch will be ruined." She knelt down to wipe up the egg and he, standing behind her, got a nice view of the way the knit material of the sweater dress clung to her ass._

_"I promise, Bella, that if we run out of eggs I will run right down and pick up some more." He picked up three three eggs then, to distract himself from touching her. She was intent on making her cookies, and just having her in his kitchen and laughing was more than he'd dreamed of when she'd yes to ice cream three months ago. With careful hands he started juggling them. Bella, though looking worried at first at the prospect of three more broken eggs, applauded._

_"Oh! Do it again, Cade!" She clasped her hands together, and he was helpless to do anything else. He even bowed a little, at the end, as he presented her the eggs with a teasing flourish._

_"Will you teach me?" she asked, once the cookies were in the oven._

_"Anything you want." Dishes could wait, despite her tidy need to get them taken care of right away. He tugged her around to face him, his hands settling on her hips and his nose nuzzling the place just behind her ear that he'd discovered during a movie marathon. It never failed to make her laugh. It also, if he added his mouth and the gentlest scraping of his teeth, made her moan._

_"I want to know how to juggle like that. You look so peaceful when you do it, like there's nothing in the world except what you're focusing on." She relaxed against him, her slight frame fitting against his so perfectly._

_"There's you. Always and forever, Bella, there's you." She'd snuck bits of cookie dough while she'd baked; even if he hadn't seen her he would have known from the sugar on her tongue and the cinnamon flavor he chased around her mouth. There was a bit of vanilla, too, at the roof of her mouth. He found it all, exploring every bit of her mouth, luring her into his, letting his hands join into the exploration a little. He could spend all of his time, all his life, just touching and tasting her._

_By the time the alarm on the stove went off they were both panting, taking in deep breaths of air. Belle scrambled to take care of the cookies and put in the second batch. Her curls were hanging down over her face, and it took him a minute to notice that she was biting her lower lip. It was something she'd done a lot, the first few times they'd spent more than a few minutes together. He hadn't seen her do it in weeks, except for once two Saturdays before when she'd had to break their date to work in her dad's shop._

_"Bella?" He tucked her curl behind one ear so he could see her better. He thought about asking her, straight out, what was wrong but decided on a less direct route. "Worried about the price of eggs going up if you keep dropping them during juggling practice?"_

_Belle shook her head, glanced up at him, then returned her attention to taking the last couple of cookies off the tray. Her cheeks, he was pretty sure, were redder than they'd been a minute ago. "I like kissing you."_

_"That's good to know, since the feeling is pretty mutual." She was so young. He forgot that, sometimes, because she was so smart and so much more mature than most people he knew. She wasn't even halfway through her junior year of high school, though and still had a couple of months until she was seventeen. He could probably get in trouble just for thinking some of the things he did about her, but he didn't give a damn._

_"I haven't... things... I mean I... damnit." She stumbled over her words until the last, jumping backwards and waving her hand in the air. His swearing was a little more drawn out as he led her to the sink and turned on the cold water to run over her new burn. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her burn herself, but that didn't make it any easier to see the red mark on her skin, against her pale perfection. Nothing should hurt her or mar her skin. Except him, an impish voice in the back of his mind said, and he couldn't help imagining what it would be like to leave a hickey on her neck, high enough for anyone, including Vartan Gaston, could see it._

_"Haven't done what love?" he asked to distract himself from the burn mark. Since she was turned away from him he thought she might find it easier to say what she needed to say._

_"Haven't done any more than what we've already done. Kissing and... and a little touching. But I haven't... It's not that I don't want to, but there wasn't anyone before that I thought I would want to with, and now we're here and I know you have and I don't want to be a disappointment or anything." He could almost hear her working up her courage, trying to get everything out while she could. As she spoke her words got faster and more squished together._

_"You could never be a disappointment. Never." He forgot about the running water as he turned her around, giving her one fierce but brief kiss. It had still never occurred to him, though it obviously should have, that she was a virgin. She was that innocent, and still chose to be with a beast like him. "If I got to do nothing more than hold you I would be happy."_

_"But..."_

_"No." He covered her lips with his fingers. "I won't lie to you, Bella. I love kissing you and touching you, and I do hope that someday I get to show you what it's like to make love. But we won't go any faster than you're ready for. It doesn't matter what I've done before or what anyone else does; this is us. I love you, and want this to be right."_

_Her eyes shimmered with tears, and for all his struggling to say the right thing he was sure he'd messed up. Probably messed up big. Reflexively he lowered his hand and started to take a step back._

_"You love me?" Somehow the tears only made her smile seem that much bigger._

_"I do. I love you." He called her 'love' but considering his habit of calling most people, even those he hated, 'dearie' he could understand why it wouldn't seem to mean as much._

_"I love you too, Caden." She threw her arms around him, sending him stumbling a few steps backwards. He'd returned the embrace just as enthusiastically after a moment. The second batch of cookies ended up being a little burnt, thank to their distraction._

They'd moved slowly, after that, touching each other a little more each time, learning what felt good, learning to listen to each other. It was two months later, just after her birthday, when she's made arrangements with Ruby to cover for her not being at home or at work. She'd made them a Valentine's dinner, worn his favorite dress of hers, the blue one, and when they'd finished eating she'd handed him his gift. She was blushing bright red when he'd opened the small box and had taken out a condom.

No single night of his life could compare to that one; not just because he'd made love to her for the first time, but because she'd trusted him that much. No one else in his life ever had given him that level of trust.

"Forever, Bella. We were supposed to be forever." He slammed his hand against the wall, which did nothing more than make his hand hurt. He'd had her, and now he'd lost her, and nothing could ever be right again.

Despite the fact that he'd just had sex he was already half hard thinking about his Bella. She'd been so shy, the first time she'd touched him, her fingers barely brushing his skin. She'd looked up at him every few seconds, as if worried that she was doing something wrong. As if anything that involved her touching him could ever be wrong.

He wrapped his own hand around his erection, stroking himself harder than she ever had, but it was her name he cried out when he came. It was always her name that he thought, even if he didn't speak it aloud.

He would never stop thinking about her.


End file.
